Saturday, April 13, 2013

Dear Diary: Crême de la Crême

2010 was an awesome year.

I was bright-faced, and I was cool. Like Macklemore, but Hispanic. 

The following was written about in August 2010.

It was May 2010, just a few days the Cinco de Mayo concert that the school's Mariachi held. It was the opinion of the director that we should have photographs taken by a professional friend of his, and in return, we could buy them. So it was decided that the Tuesday before the concert, we would have a photoshoot in the auditorium's lobby, which was spacious enough to accommodate a bunch of teenagers in tight-fitting charro suits and photographic equipment.

Since the auditorium and our classroom were at opposite ends of the school, we could either have the chance to change first, then move OR move first, then change. Some people took the first, while myself and a few others decided on the latter. I had to move a hard-shell case for my instrument, which weighed ten times more than the instrument itself. That, along with my suit bag was hell. My pants were also falling down. No easy times for me.

Once we placed our things on a table in the lobby, we were motioned to get dressed. There was a bathroom on the lobby floor, but it got hectic with people pulling stunts (like turning off the lights or throwing wet toilet paper at others). I remembered a bathroom downstairs in the basement, aptly located in next to the choir room. I took my suit bag and my ass downstairs to find a completely quiet and empty bathroom. 

This part of the building was original, circa 1956. The windows were made of plate glass, the bathrooms had lighting fixtures older than me, and the walls were duo-colored, with tile above the waist a cream white; the tile below a charcoal grey. All the sinks and mirrors appeared original, but I couldn't tell. The stall was towards the back, half-heartedly lit by the light fixture towards the front. I clamored inside the small thing, probably only 48 inches wide.

I got undressed and began pulling on my charro suit. First the pants, form-fitting on my legs. Next came the dress shirt, haphazardly tucked into my pants, followed by buckling the belt. Next came putting on my boots. This was the worst part for me, because I had had the boots since 2008. I had to sit down to put the boots on, so I perched myself on the toilet while my finger (painfully) played a shoehorn. As I was putting them on, I heard the door open.

I fell silent.

I heard a familiar voice say, "Is anyone in here?"

I replied, "Yeah, I am. Eddie."
"Oh" he said. "Just came in here to change."

He placed his things next to the stall and began to dress himself. We might have chatted during, but I'm not certain.

I finished with my boots, and quickly put on my vest. I always had trouble buttoning the damned thing, so I decided that I would button it using one of the mirrors. I put all my clothes into my suit bag and exited the stall. 

I see the person dressing, putting on his white dress shirt. I walk to the mirror and began to place my moño on, since the vest would be in the way. Moving on to buttoning my vest, and I'm halfway done when the person asks me to look over.

He walks over to me, with the shirt slightly open, and and asks me, "Eddie, how do I look?"

Looking him over, he was much thinner than I was. I replied matter-of-factly, "Skinny." I chuckled a bit.

"No," he said, "I mean, how does it look?"

This time, holding his shirt open, I told him, "Okay."

He didn't say anything back, and began to finish up as I walking out the bathroom. I said, "I'll see you upstairs!" as I headed out. The breeze from my movement upstairs cooled me down. Sweating profusely is just what happens sometimes, and believe me, it feels good when you can move.

That photo shoot went without a hitch. Of course, I was last, and glad I was, too. The pants I had on were tight on the legs, and I couldn't get into the pose the photographer needed me to be. I actually fell on my ass in front of her. God, that was the most embarrassing moment of my life at that point. Falling in front of her and her assistant.

But what can you do? Life is just fucked up in that way.